


Shiner

by ravager_tears



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: A lot of cursing, A lot of physical violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drinking, Drug Use, Drugs, M/M, Other, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, physical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravager_tears/pseuds/ravager_tears
Summary: Yondu Udonta spent the first 26 years of his life as a slave. Almost 20 of them were as a battle slave. Now he's free, the Captain of a (banished) Ravager ship, and he's got a squishy pet Terran and Some Unspoken Thing with his first mate.But old habits die hard, and there are some neurological damages that can't be undone. It was never a problem-- until Kraglin finds out.





	1. Boom Clap

**Author's Note:**

> If you like watching Yondu bleed, clap your hands

Kraglin was sick of being lied to. He was also sick of Peter Quill, but that was an entirely different issue. Unfortunately, one seemed to preclude the other for the time being. "Pete, I can't play around with ya right now. I'm doing something important."

 

The snotty kid, now twelve and becoming less cute by the day, curled his lip in a way that was disturbingly like a blue snarl every Ravager was familiar with. "I ain't playing, Krags. I'm tryna find Yondu. Now stop covering for the ugly blueberry and tell me where he is."

 

Kraglin honestly would if he could. Yondu deserved to have a prepubescent Quill crammed down his throat. But wherever Yondu was, it wasn't in the Sin Den that he had said he was going to. Kraglin checked. Twice. 

 

Krags REALLY hates being lied to. Especially by a man he had gotten particularly close to in the last year. It may have been weird to admit, but Peter was probably the catalyst that finally set the two off into a relationship at all. Their shouting matches had quadrupled since Yondu adopted the leaking gobsnobber, and it was one such fight that had ended in angry sex for them. Which led to makeup sex. Which led to more fights which led to...well. No one was claiming their thing was healthy. 

 

But to sum up Kraglin's current mission: smush Quill, hunt Yondu Udonta through the freezing streets of Contraxia, and interrogate. Ass-kicking optional. 

 

After ensuring that Peter was absolutely trapped on the ship (bot hookers sadly did NOT have babysitting modes) Kraglin snatched up the warmest, unmarked coat he could and began the wet trudge around the small town. He may not have had enough body fat to last long in such an enviornment, but he was determined and hot-headed for the time being. It wasn't like he needed to track his Captain's every move or anything. But one time, he had something important to bring up about the ship, and when he went to the location Yondu had cited, the blue asshole was nowhere to be found. And then it happened again, and again, and again. 

 

If Yondu didnt want to say where he was going, that was fine. But he didn't have to completely lie about his whereabouts to Kraglins face time after time. It was getting old, it was getting frustrating, and it was going to end one way or another.

 

Kraglin's piss and vinegar kept him going into the dawn hours. By then, he had tried every brothel known to the Ravagers, as well as the few that were too scarring even for their rowdy and raunchy standards. The only thing left that Kraglin could think to do was try the underground bars before knocking on the residential doors one by one. 

 

With a grand sigh he spotted a contraband symbol on a basement door and figured, why not?

 

He was also thinking he was hungry, cold, and mad. Did bars serve soup? Did ANYWHERE serve soup after 3am? 

 

His food-driven thoughts were interupted by a thunderous roar. A gambling house? The further into the large space he went, the more apparent it became that Kraglin wasn't getting soup unless it was 70% alcohol or more. It was a bar, sure, but it also had a rink in the far corner, lower into the ground and surrounded by hollering gamblers. Realizing he had stumbled into some kind of fight club/people cockfight establishment, he sighed and tried to weave his way back to the enterance. Yondu gambled plenty, sure, but never in a place like this. Kraglin had never even seen him set foot in a building that had a fighting ring. When Kraglin finally got his captain naked, he realized why: the marks of a slave lined his shoulder in traditional Kree fashion. 

 

Kraglin knew the place was a waste of time. But he was hungry, cold, and most importantly: hungry. A dram or two of liquor wouldnt hurt his mood, either. So instead of going directly out the doors, he stopped right on the edge of the long counter top and slammed some credits down. His vague instructions were "find me food and find me fyrewine."

 

The fyrewine was crap, of course, but the crunchy fries were surprisingly decent for such a dive. Once his angry stomach settled the food, he took a better look around the place. It was all carved out of the ground in levels, one giant room that stepped lower and lower. All points led down to the fighting rink, clearly designed to allow optimum visuals from everywhere. Whatever battle had been going on down there was getting pretty heated. They had started the match before Kraglin's food arrived and were still making gross, gory blows to one another even over the sounds of the crowd. 

 

The crunch of bone was a distinct sound and almost as gruesome as the howl of pain that followed it. The crowd roared its pleasure at the violent act, and Kraglin had to duck a few flails of approval. Except even through the shouts and vulgar chants, even through the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, Kraglin heard a familiar voice. It was like he was programmed to seek out that one person. "Don'tchu go running away from me, you slimy thoruk."

 

That... was a very vulgar Askavarian curse there was no Hraxlian translation for. And Kraglin only knew one man who ever used it.

 

Panic in his throat, and overriding his higher brain functions, Kraglin darted off his stool to stand at his full height, even elbowing a couple patrons out of his way. There, dead center in the ring with a man taking his victory lap. He had a bottle of booze in one hand, cracked open and gulped under a yellow snaggled tooth. In the other fist was a bone, pried and torn bloody and horrifically out of his sobbing opponent. 

 

There, standing bruised and bloody in the middle of a nasty fight ring, was Yondu Udonta.

 

 


	2. Moonshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu sees Kraglin watching, promptly decides alcohol is a good solution.

“Suck my fucking dick and gimme my money.” Yondu insisted, hand out to the Ring Master. He didn’t really do it for the money, although it was nice having some credits the crew didn’t know about. But there was no way he was offering up a single bit of himself for less than what his enormous ego was worth.

 

The Ring Master and owner of the sour little hole in the floor made an ugly, relenting face. Just for that expression, Yondu grabbed a bottle from the ring’s edge he had absolutely no intention of paying for, and cracked it open with his teeth. He held his hand out again, impatient as ever. Once he had the credits in his pocket he went back for his trophy bit from the floor. This time it was a bone straight out of the guy’s arm, but what did he _really_ need it for? He had four arms, after all.

 

Once the _money, money, money_ prerogative was solved, his higher brain function melted away back into adrenaline and the buzz of the fight. There was something primal and raw running through his veins, even if he never bothered to put words to it. There was always a thrill of satisfaction and ease from using his arrow as a weapon, sure. This was very different from that. This was a rush, a different kind of pleasure completely. He had pains in his chest from the blows, and a scratch on his forearm was bleeding slightly, but nothing he hadn’t had a million times before. The rush drowned it out. It roared over the throbbing wounds, it roared over the crowd, and it roared over every thought in his head. A whistle may be his weapon, but fighting like this just made something unspeakable _sing._

 

Yondu raised booze and bone both to get another cheer from the crowd. Even in this state, it was nice to get a lot of praise, no matter what the reason. Yondu scanned the pack of gambling pirates and black-market dealers, mostly out of curiosity. There were plenty of ugly brutes eying him like he was their next target, probably from their lost bets. But then he saw one ragged profile that wasn’t cheering. One stock still bean pole that looked like he had swallowed a lemon, a whole raw fish, and a grenade consecutively. One face that was much, much too familiar.

 

Kraglin flarkin’ Obfonteri.

 

***

 

“Shit,” Yondu muttered. “Shit, shit.”

He moved to set down the bottle of moonshine he had absconded, but then thought better of it. He choked down as much of the burning swill as quickly as he could. Not only was he stubborn and vindictive enough to want to ensure the sour-faced owner didn’t get a drop back, he was also very sure his conversation with Kraglin would be a lot more pleasant if he was flagged. Well. More flagged than he already was. Before every fight, Yondu usually went through a ritual bottle of Kree Tequila.

 

And boy, was that moonshine an extra kicker. He was definitely ready to listen to Krags prattle on about whatever he decided to prattle on about. He was also definitely not walking straight, but you couldn’t win every fight. The trudge through the bar was an easy one. No one wanted to poke at a man who had just ripped a literal bone from a living opponent for sport. A bone he still had in his hands, actually. He probably should have had the presence of mind to drop it somewhere, but Yondu was a trophy-taker, through and through. Kraglin could pry his prize from his cold, hungover hands.

 

Yondu was prepared for a lot of things. Kraglin yelling. Yondu yelling. Bartenders yelling. He was even prepared to offer Krags a romp in the closest in exchange for not talking about this ever again (not that he believed the caring idjit would _do it_ but it was worth an ask). What he was most definitely not prepared for upon his approach was Kragin’s face going funny. Blurry, mind you, but weirdly…soft and downturned, like the guy’s entire body was frowning. His cracked voice only made it worse. “Sir… aw, fuck sir, I didn’t think it was this bad.”

 

Bad? Pffft, there was nothing bad about it. Hadn’t the idiot been watching? Yondu won. Winning is a good thing. He tried to say all that, of course. But it only came out as a slurred, “But I won?”

 

And that was right around the time the moonshine decided to kick his ass, because he stumbled straight into Kraglin’s arms and passed out.

 

***

 

Kraglin barely managed to catch Yondu before he went face first into the floor. The blue asshole was much shorter but also much stockier and probably weighed twice as much as what Kraglin’s porous bones did. So to say it was impressive was an understatement. Sadly, Krags didn’t feel much like celebrating his catch. Yondu had never looked so awful, not even when he got shot by a raider on Opoi Seven. He had been on a ventilator after that one. But he still managed defiant glares and toothy snarls through the tube in his throat. But the drunken pile of blue currently melting into Kraglin’s arms was ragged, punched to bits, and more shit-faced than Krags had ever seen. And Krags had been there when Yondu got pickled enough to dance to _Quill’s Music_ of all dasted things.

 

Krags couldn’t help thinking how… sad Yondu looked like this. Although he was clinging onto the wad of credits and the stolen bone like they were life lines, even asleep. That didn’t make it better. Kraglin hauled Yondu up by his underarms—Yondu had collapsed on him as though going for a very drunken hug—and tugged him toward the hallway. After a minute of fishing through his pockets for something, anything to give him a hint as to what was going on, Kraglin found a room key for the hotel next door. Deciding that was a better place to go than the ship, especially with Nosey Peter on board. Once Kraglin managed to get a half-stumbling, half-snoring Yondu to crash into the hotel bed, Kraglin went around the place. It was obvious he had set up the place beforehand as a place to sleep. His ravager coat was draped over the foot of the bed as well as his arrow, blaster, and a large stack of hard liquor bottles on the table.

 

All of that told Kraglin that this act was premeditated, but he still didn’t understand _why._ Was… was this what he was _always_ doing when he lied about where he was going? It would explain some oddities—Kraglin had assumed Yondu had some fetish bot giving him bruises and scratches and the proud idiot was too embarrassed to admit it. But now all of those minor injuries seemed more meaningful, like he had been seeing the world through ill-fitting glasses. Kraglin knew Yondu could fight, of course. He trained Quill how to fight, participated in some training and practice matches aboard the Eclector. He had seen the good captain in real battle too many times to recall. But he always had his arrow. And a blaster. And Kraglin. This kind of fighting was so… brutal, almost personal.

 

With no better option than to crawl into the threadbare bed besides his half-naked captain (why bother wearing a shirt when you knew it would get bloody, he guessed) he was unsurprised the blue bastard immediately went for his body heat like a baby kitten. The drunken groping was new, though. “Sir? Sir, wakeup. Yondu, get your damned hands out of my suit! Your mitts are cold—shit!”

 

Leave it to Yondu Udonta to use his boyfriend like a high-metabolism space heater. He crammed his cold digits into Krags leathers, pressing to warm skin. Kraglin even elbowed in him in the face in an attempt to deter the Centurian Heat Thief, but the best he got out of him was “Merf.”

 

“Merf yourself,” Krags growled, trying to gain some maneuvering space on the bed. All the wiggling just got Yondu to burry himself closer to Kraglin, wrapping his arms tighter around his thin body. It was a full minute before the actual position occurred to Krags. Over a year they were together, but this was the first time Yondu had actually _cuddled_ up against him. Even with his partner drunk and cold, Krags decided he would take what he could get and settled in to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the nookie is coming


	3. Drunken Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu decides to go for the "ask Kraglin to trade silence for sex" route.
> 
>  
> 
> We have nookie! Not my hottest sex scene ever, but I hope you can enjoy the humor of it!

 

Kraglin had a nightmare. It wasn’t a traditional nightmare, but to him it was horrible. The whole night he just kept seeing Yondu’s genuinely confused, almost innocent face as he asked, “But I won?” It was playing on a loop in his brain, over and over again.

He woke up shivering—unsurprising as they were still on Contraxia. Except Yondu was not tucked protectively into his side like he had been. Now he was half on, half off the bed, already most of the way through a bottle of booze he snagged off the table. The idiot was too lazy to even get out of bed for it. “Yondu, the fuck?”

Yondu dropped the bottle onto the floor where it miraculously landed upright. Wiping excess liquid off his chin he readjusted to lay fully on the bed. “Ya wanna fuck? Alright, but only if you swears not to talk about this.”

“What? No, that wasn’t what I meant… and you know I would never tell other people our business.”

“No, not talk to other people. Talk about it at all. To me. To yourself. Just don’t talk about it ever.”

“What? We _have_ to talk about this! This is—” Kraglin cut off with a noise suspiciously like a squeak. Yondu had shoved a hand back into his unzipped jumpsuit, except in search of a much more friendly area.

“Are you sure?” Yondu asked pensively. His eyes squinted at Kraglin with much more focus than his drunken state would suggest him capable of. He grasped Kraglin’s cock with much practice and flicked the tip with his thumb. “Are you _really_ sure?”

Kraglin felt his face flushing violet as body tried to make a deal his brain knew he shouldn’t. “I am _not_ trading sex for not talking about your abundant mountain of issues.”

Yondu, never one to admit defeat, gave his cock another tug while licking his lips. The noise he wrung out of Kraglin was most certainly a squeak that time. Yondu repeated, “Are you really, _really_ sure?”

“Would ya stop asking me that? I ain’t—”

The only thing in the world that would be more shocking than a meteor crashing through the window to hit Kraglin in the face would be for Yondu to dive into his jumpsuit and immediately start sucking him off. Which probably explained why it shorted out his brain when his captain did just that. Yondu had an absolute refusal for such a thing before, and Kraglin never pursued it after seeing the slave brands marking his blue back. But his former acceptance of never having a blowjob from him made it all the harder to try to carry on a conversation during. “This… we still… gonna talk about… ah….”

That was about the moment Kraglin gave up arguing with the determined and extremely proficient captain. Blue hands roamed up his chest, running over bits of flesh under his jumpsuit. The skin beneath his ribs that led down to his hips was particularly sensitive and Yondu noticed it immediately. The whimpers coming out of Kraglin were honestly pathetic, but he couldn’t stop them for anything, not even by biting the back of his hand. Once Yondu started humming over his cock and fingering the sensitive flesh on the underside of his knot, Kraglin choked out a quick, “Gonna—gonna—”

And then Yondu pulled back quickly enough to give him whiplash. All contact was gone, and Yondu gave him a sloppy grin. “No, you ain’t.”

The finality in his voice made Kraglin whimper. He reached down to try and throw himself over the edge but Yondu caught his hand. He unbuckled his belt with the other, grin widening. “Now, are we gonna talk about my ‘problems,’” he mocked, “or am I gonna ride ya blind?”

Kraglin squirmed. “Evil! You’re an evil flarkin’ bastard. Blue demon from the deepest depths of Hell.”

Yondu went in for a rare kiss, tongue and nips prying another groan out of Kraglin. “What’s your answer, stick-man?”

***

That wasn’t really much of a choice, at least according to Kraglin’s Dick. Yondu did, in fact, ride Kraglin like he was trying to short out his brain. Maybe he just wanted him to lose the memory of the night before, or maybe he was just really drunk and really horny. Either way, Yondu came all over Kraglin, and Kraglin followed shortly after. The sleepy-drunk seemed to take over Yondu again, so he curled up across Kraglin’s frame, waiting for his knot to deflate.

It was genuinely nice to have a Yondu so willing to roll all over Kraglin with such ease, but Kraglin was a bit worried about what the morning would look like. The ship would take off in another two days, and Yondu had to sober up eventually, didn’t he? But until then, there was no point in having a fight the blue asswipe would only somewhat remember. Kraglin didn’t start fights with Yondu often (fights over Quill being the exception) but when he did, he wanted them to be _memorable._

Kraglin fought sleep as much as he could, but he’d only gotten the few hours between dragging his captain from the bar and having an intense romp, so sleep finally did him in again. Unfortunately, Yondu was a sneaky and agile guy even when he was drunk. When Kraglin woke, it was to an empty room. It was missing precisely five hundred credits, three bottles of Kree liquor, and one bruised Ravager Captain.

Cursing, Kraglin shot upright and scrambled for his coat and reattached his suit properly. He was absolutely seething at what the empty room implied: his fucking mate went back to the fucking fights.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, it was a lot faster to hunt down Yondu’s location. He was at a different fight ring this time, and already in the middle of a fight. He was taking blow after blow, only giving one hit for every two he received. Kraglin had no way to get him out of it, so he had to sit and watch as Yondu got walloped. Even through the abuse, through every hit and scratch he took, he still had a smirk on his face. It was an expression Kraglin was unfamiliar with. There was his usual taunt of course; Yondu challenged everything as much as he refused to back down from a challenge himself. But there was something different about it, something weirdly, purely _happy._

Kraglin suddenly felt very sick to his stomach. He wanted to see Yondu make happy faces because they were together, or because the bridge crew bought him a new toy. He wanted to see Yondu make happy faces behind Quill’s back, secretly proud of the little monster in ways Kraglin could never hope to understand, but willing to die before admitting it to the little snot. Kraglin did not want Yondu to be _happy_ while having the absolute shit beat out of him.

As the fight dragged on, Yondu spotted Kraglin. Even through the crowd, even through the fight, even with blood in his eyes and bruises on his hands, Yondu saw him. And his face softened just the tiniest bit, so little that Kraglin would never have noticed it if he hadn’t spent his entire adult life watching the guy bluff. At the sight of Kraglin, Yondu’s entire posture changed.

He casually wiped blood out if his eyes, straightening his spine. Before, he had been crouched with his fits up protectively like a boxer. Now, his tense shoulders dropped and he looked like he could be ordering coffee if it hadn’t been for the huge amount of injuries covering his body. His opponent was confused by that only long enough to try and take advantage of it. He swiftly went in to try and punch Yondu in the throat, but somehow it didn’t happen. Instead, Yondu threw one precise blow that was unlike anything he had during the rest of the fight. It was swift and unyielding, like he had suddenly turned into titanium.

The other fighter’s face caved in under the strong blue fist, and dropped to the floor like a pile of rocks. The crowd was stunned to silence, the entire bar unmoving in the wake of Yondu’s change in demeanor. Yondu didn’t react to their frozen state. He merely jumped out of the ring as if he had no injuries at all, pulled a wad of credits out of the Ring Master’s pocket (who didn’t even raise a hand to stop him) and leaned over the bar. The only movement the crowd gave was to move out of his way as he came up with a bottle of Tondarian Fire that he smashed open on the bar’s edge and started to drink through the broken edges. He made his way over to Kraglin.

With that wide, flirtatious grin that had made Kraglin fall for him in the first place, he offered Kraglin the broken bottle. “Hey hot stuff. Wanna nip?”

Kraglin didn’t reach for the alcohol. He only stared into beguiling red eyes. “What the hell was that? If you could have won the fight that easily, why did you let yourself get hit so much?”

Yondu shrugged before slurring, “Issss not ‘bout the win. Isss ‘bout the fight isself.”

With nothing more to say on the matter, Yondu took another swing at his bottle and went for the door. “Yous cut my night might short, Krags. You gotta make up for it. Hope you know how ta sober me up.”

That… was most definitely an innuendo. With no way to argue with the drunk and bleeding captain, Kraglin could only trail him back to the hotel.

Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for Kraglin being a Hraxlian and his "anatomy" *cough*dick knot*cough* go to the lovely Write_like_an_American, who graced our fandom with Kraglin's Best Dick
> 
> I am, however, sticking with Blue/purple Blooded species because the thought of Krags blushing indigo makes me really happy


	4. Freak Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kraglin finds unique ways to deal with the aftermath of Yondu's mad behavior. (sex-like ways)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you guys have noticed but my nerdy ass has made all of the chapter titles named after song names/lyrics. Cuz I'm funny.

Krags followed Yondu back to their room (yes, their; if Yondu wanted to argue he could _not run around fighting in lawless cock fights_ ). Yondu did make a few pit stops along the way for alcohol and some distinctly drug-like substances before Kraglin could catch up and shoo him back on the correct path. Kraglin had every intention of taking everything he had away from him once they were alone—if he made a scene in the open, snowy streets of Contraxia, other members of their crew were bound to catch them at it.

 

After all the hustling and dragging was done, Kraglin locked the door to their room in the hopes that Yondu was too drunk to open it. When he turned around, Yondu dropped his armful of goodies. He also dropped to his knees at Kraglin’s feet and tried tugging the suit open.

 

This was as wrong as it was last night, but this time, Kraglin’s brain was prepared and able to override with rationale. As hot as it may look, there was something fundamentally off and _wrong_ about Captain Udonta, fiercest of the fierce, diving to please the mate he barely acknowledged most days. Maybe not if he had come around to the idea himself, that could have been fine. But the asshole was clearly in the throes of some kind of self-destructive rampage, and Kraglin was absolutely _not_ going to be a part of that. Their relationship had enough unhealthy edges as it was.

 

Kraglin smacked the hand that was tugging his suit open and held Yondu’s shoulders away. “Would ya quit it?”

 

Kraglin half expected Yondu to bite his dick off for the offense, but instead he only whined. With a full on pout he _had_ to have learned from a certain ginger brat, he looked up at Kraglin through his surprisingly full lashes. “But I _wanna_.”

 

Kraglin’s Dick jumped at the prospect, arguing that that was good enough, but the rest of him knew better. “We ain’t doing none of that, now. Sit on the bed so I can treat some of those wounds.”

 

Yondu shrugged, still firmly planned on the floor. “I ain’t hurtin’.”

 

“That ain’t true an’ you know it, Cap’n,” Kraglin snapped. “Every bit of you is hurtin’ from your head to your heart. Now sit your blue ass down so I can see what all you done to yerself now.”

 

Yondu blinked at him blankly for a long time. He was easily too drunk to comprehend such meaningful words, so he settled with Kraglin’s orders that he _did_ understand. He stumbled a little trying to stand, grumbling, “I ain’t no bitch to order ‘round.”

 

“Normally that’s true,” Kraglin said vindictively. “But you’re not fit to take a shit by yourself right now. Which means First Mate is in charge—me. Now stop drinking, stop arguing, sit down and answer my goddamned questions like a normal, functional adult.”

 

Yondu did so with a grandiose sigh, as if letting Kraglin treat his injuries was a huge honor. He held his arms out so that his bruises and split knuckles could be inspected. “Whasss got your undies in a wad?”

 

“You. You acting like… like _this_ gets my undies in a wad. Now hold still, the antiseptic is gonna burn.”

 

Yondu didn’t even flinch at what had to sting. He was looking at the floor on the other side of the bed, refusing to meet Kraglin’s eyes. “Don’t see what business of yours it is what I do in my free time.”

 

That only made Kraglin seethe more. “It’s my business because _I care about your sorry blue ass._ ”

 

Yondu did glare at Krags then, lower jaw out further than normal as if to strengthen himself. “Do not. I’m a nice lay and you got a thing for blue asses, sure. But don’t go pretendin’ like that means anythin'.”

 

Kraglin went very still for several seconds. His blood was absolutely boiling with fury at those small sentences. He wanted to yell; how _dare_ he presume to know what Kraglin felt. He had absolutely no right to dismiss him like that, or to force his own stunted feelings into Kraglin. It took every bit of will power Kraglin had not to shout, and he trembled with it. But he had decided before that his fights would be _memorable_ and Yondu was way too flagged for that, still. So he did the only thing he could, the truest thing he had ever learned for the immature blue jackass himself, as well as the squishy gobsnobber he had taught and learned from. “ _Do too._ ”

 

Yondu took a second to cope with that. He snarled at being challenged, but Krags had his hands trapped in his own, being bandaged, so he couldn’t throw a punch. There was plenty he wanted to say, plenty of arguments and orders he wanted to bark. But he was on day two of his drinking fest, and his brain was so pickled he honestly couldn’t do anything more than insist, “Do not!”

 

“Do too!”

 

“ _Do not!”_

“I do _too,”_ Kraglin said in his best imitation of the classic Udonta Snark Voice. “And there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

 

Yondu’s face went turquoise, flushed around his nose, and he literally vibrated with whatever it was he was bottling up. “DO. NOT.”

 

Kraglin, now entertained that Yondu’s own tactics worked equally well against him, decided to go in for another sly move that had done him in. “Admit it. Admit I care ‘bout you, and I’mma fuck you through the bed and into the lobby.”

 

 _That_ certainly got his attention. Yondu whimpered, fury suddenly zapped into heat. “That ain’t fair.”

 

“ _You_ ain’t fair,” Kraglin taunted. “Never have been. Now do you want me to plow you like never before?”

 

There went that pout again. Yondu was clearly weighing his options, but when he realized Krags used the silence to demand a verbal answer, he grudgingly muttered “Yes.”

 

Kraglin shoved him back into the sheets, straddling thick blue thighs. Yondu’s adrenaline and his buzz were both waning and he could feel those bony legs poking at sore bruises. A moan escaped him and he cursed himself for letting the tell free. “Yes, flark it all, I want ya to fuck me senseless.”

 

Kraglin gave a very toothy, very power-hungry grin. “Then here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to say ‘I love you, you blue idiot,’ and you’re going to agree. Don’t argue with me, no sarcastic remarks, definitely don’t kill me with an arrow. I cannot emphasize enough that you should _not_ murder me. And then, maybe, just maybe, we’ll see how many times in a row I can make you cum all over yourself.”

 

Yondu squirmed at the image, but he refused to be manipulated that easily. Making Kraglin shut up with dirty taunts was his thing, not the other way around! “Nuh-uh. You’re a mean tease, Obfonteri, but no dice. Ain’t gonna let you delude yourself like that. Really takin’ one for the team, I am.”

 

Kraglin decided it was experiment time. Because after a year of sex with a person, you noticed things. You didn’t always comment on them, just to be polite, mind you, but you still noticed. And after watching Yondu stand in a cockfight for the purpose of getting himself torn to shreds, Kraglin decided maybe he could be persuaded to try _other means_ of channeling that behavior. Careful of the already present wounds, Kraglin went in to kiss Yondu’s collar bone, but instead of lips, he dragged sharpened, predator-like teeth that Hraxlians had in a retractable row above the standard. They popped out sometimes during sex, and Kraglin still held onto the memory of Yondu cramming his blue fingers in his mouth to tease them like tiny daggers.

 

The effect was exactly what Kraglin expected and more. Yondu started panting and gave another valiant squirm. When Kraglin pressed down at the juncture where throat met shoulder, just enough to divot the black and purple flesh there, Yondu’s entire body arched up and bandaged hands clawed at his back.

 

“Still not gonna rethink your position, boss?” Kraglin asked as casually as he could. The whole thing was affecting him, too, but if he was going to wring an admission of emotion out of Yondu, he was going to have to keep his bluff. Besides, there was something so much better about dragging one-sided pleasure out of his mate, something primal and powerful and very, very dangerous. “I could bite marks all over your bruises, or fuck you until your ass looks like these.” There was an obscene slap to the abused flesh around his shoulders and back. Yondu’s eyes had only a tiny red band around the rim, his pupil taking over the rest of the space. He hissed at the smack, but continued to squirm. “Boss?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Yondu hissed again, body trembling with effort. He was trying his damnedest to control his reactions but the fucking Hraxlian was way more observant than he had given him credit for. Still refusing to give, he growled, “Nuh-uh.”

 

Kraglin clicked his tongue in disappointment, deciding to nip and tongue his way down Yondu’s chest, poking at bruises and kissing at cuts. His hands continued to pin Yondu down by his sides; not because he was afraid he would bolt, but because the upwards rolls of Yondu’s hips were getting distracting. “You’re bein’ so mean. I ain’t asking you to love me back or nothin’. I don’t even know if that disastrous brain of yours could admit it to yourself. But I _do_ love you, and I just want ya to know it. You just gotta say ‘okay’ and we can have a lot more fun with this.”

 

As if to prove his point, Kraglin went down to nibble at Yondu’s hip bone, hot breath tickling the waistband of his pants. Yondu’s grip on the sheets over his head tightened so much he yanked them off the bed, and the noise he made could only be described as strangled. He was still mad at Kraglin, he was sure of it, but it was getting much harder to remember why. Yondu knew from experience the guy could suck the paint off an M-ship, and adding the careful scrape of teeth was absolutely driving him wild. The more this went on, the more Yondu wondered if maybe this was all just one very drunken fantasy. Just in case it wasn’t, he gasped, “Ain’t nothing okay ‘bout it. If you keep sayin’ it, I’mma… we won’t never….”

 

“Never do this again?” The smug bastard should _not_ have sounded amused by that. With a laugh in his voice, he asked, “Now why don’t I believe that?”

 

He cut off Yondu’s reply by slipping his thumb into the waist of his leather pants, tugging them down just one small, suggestive inch. The rest of his fingers curled tightly over ass muscles. When Yondu’s gasps started to get uneven and hitched, he stopped his teasing of mouth and teeth, sitting up. The withdrawl made Yondu whimper and try to wrangle Kraglin back down, but Krags was having none of it. He leaned in close, nose to nose, to make red eyes meet his sparkling blue ones. “Boss?”

 

Yondu didn’t reply, hand still wringing the sheets over his head into unfixable knots. Kraglin tightened his grip on that lovely ass, insisting, “Boss?”

 

Yondu growled, “WHAT?”

 

“I still love ya.”

 

Yondu did glare now, kneeing Krags in the ribs. When he opened his mouth to protest, Kraglin used his own to silence him, kissing him deeply and softly, despite the sharp teeth and nails digging into his ass. The combination of tender and painful was tearing the shit out of Yondu’s drunken heart, and his dick was just as confused. When Kraglin finally broke the kiss to chew on his ear sharply enough to give him an extra earring, Yondu was ready to _marry_ the idiot if it meant getting that fat knot crammed into him.

 

And his chance to admit it was closing in. “Cap’n?”  


“Hmm?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Yondu’s gasps were shaky and so was he. His straining muscles were rebelling against the abuse, and his voice sounded so small when he finally murmured, “I love you, too.”

 

That answer was apparently not good enough, because it broke Kraglin. He froze, hands no longer kneading ass, mouth no longer teasing flesh. He didn’t move, head still in the crook of Yondu’s neck, as he took long, calming breaths.

 

He finally sat up to look at Yondu’s face. Had the sexed-up jerk just said what he thought Krags wanted to hear? But Yondu didn’t look like he was desperately calling out anything that would get him dick. He had his face turned to one side, not looking in Kraglin’s direction, flushed and sour and all kinds of embarrassed. The jackass _meant_ it. “I ain’t gonna say it again.”

 

Krags gave a very pleased, very shark-like grin, eyes mad and heart singing. “Wasn’t gonna ask.”

 

Yondu locked his legs around Kraglin’s body in an agile display of want. “You’ve got some promises to keep, fuckhead.”

 

Kraglin laughed, trying to help Yondu out of his pants. “You bet I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ILY OVERLOAD!!


	5. Love Bites (And so do I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There honestly is no summary for this, it's just more sex

Kraglin had never felt so alive. He had honestly never thought Yondu would ever own up to loving him back, whether or not he did. Hearing the words out of the snippy Centurian was all he had ever wanted, apparently, because despite the tightness in his own pants, he was way more occupied with Yondu. There was something pleasing in very different ways about making the man he loved squirm under his agile fingers. Or in this case, agile tongue.

 

Kraglin had certainly slept his way across the Nova Species Index as a teen, mind you. He had women and men of all kinds and builds under him. But of all the guys he had ever tried to make squirm, Yondu Udonta must have had the most sensitive prostate of them all, because the man was reduced to incoherent mess once Kraglin finally stopped teasing and planted fingers and tongue alike between his legs. Kraglin’s smirk was too buried for him to see even if he was in the state of mind to grump about it, but nothing was going to ruin Kraglin's day now, because Yondu loved him back.

 

Not even getting a large bit of his boyfriends cum smeared all over his face could deter him. He had promised to test how many times he could make him explode with pleasure in one go, and he had meant it. Even if he had to ignore his own dick for the time being.

 

The realization that his own orgasm hadn’t even slowed Kraglin down a fraction actually made Yondu give a very vocal whimper. The sheets that he had wadded around his hands unthinkingly were such a tangle, combined with the distracting tongue prying his asshole open made it a serious struggle to free just one hand, but he did manage it after much effort. He knew exactly where he wanted that hand, too, as he dove to tangle Kraglin’s hair roughly. The pain of it made him hiss and jerk to the side, diamond sharp teeth scraping against the very top of Yondu’s inner thigh. There was a slave brand there, scar tissue making the symbol unreadable after so many years, but the raised flesh only made the scrape of teeth all the more electric. Yondu whimpered for what seemed like the thousandth time, whine turning to a high-pitched growl. He lifted his hips and locked his legs around Kraglin’s shoulders and neck, effectively trapping him there. He was way beyond ordering out loud, but in his head, he was waiting for, absolutely _wanting_ that bite, that sharp snip of teeth sinking into flesh, the endorphins the wound would flood into his brain.

 

Kraglin didn’t do it, though. The idiot just kissed the scars, licking his way back to the dick and hole that begged for more attention. Yondu wanted to bark at him to follow through with the evil tease of teeth, but all that came out of his mouth were half clicks, “tch” and “kkah” sounds he couldn’t form into real words. When Krags dove down to swallow blue dick to the base, Yondu couldn’t even vocalize a warning before cumming straight into his mouth.

 

Krags took it well in stride, though, only choking slightly before pulling back. He breathlessly asked, “Flark, sir, how many times is your species built to do this?”

 

“D-dunno,” was the only dazed response Yondu could give, but he was always up for a challenge. “Thought you said yous was gonna find out.”

 

Kraglin gave another wide grin, sharp teeth reactivating Yondu’s interest. “If you think you can handle it, sir.”

 

The sharp jab of heels pushing him back downward was answer enough. He went back to work, sucking a belt of hickeys across Yondu’s waist that would be there for at least a week, and playing with fingers in his very wet hole. Every time Yondu yanked his hair or squeezed glorious blue thighs across his face Kraglin had to beat back moans. This was about turning his Cap’n to mush, and his own Little Krags could just simmer down, no matter how much it wanted action.

 

Yondu, however, had other ideas. Frustrated that his tells were going unobserved, he did his best to focus through the gasps enough to mutter his demands. He absolutely ripped at Kraglin’s hair, hard enough to yank out bloody strands, and growled, “ _Knot. Now.”_

Krags took a shaky breath, cheek resting against his thigh. “I… I….”

 

So much for staying level headed. Whatever protest he had been about to make was lost, and he pulled back just enough to squirm out of his suit. It was quite a stunt, considering Yondu still had him trapped in his legs. “Cap, this ain’t gonna work so well. Either gotta let go of my face, or ya gotta let me use it.”

 

It took Yondu a long minute to even realize where he still had his legs clenched tightly. It was surprisingly difficult to convince them to let go, but the desire to have Kraglin crammed to the brim inside him was enough to win out. His limbs all fell to the side, except for one hand that returned to yanking a mohawk upwards. “Knot.”

 

“I heard ya the first time. C’mere.”

 

Getting Yondu to go in for a kiss was way easier than anticipated. His lips parted before Krags even closed in, clamping down on his first mate’s lower lip. The only thing that made him release it was throwing his head back in a gasp at the fullness of Hrax anatomy stretching his well-prepared hole. His hands flew up to claw Krags closer, hanging on for dear life. All it took was the tight slip of knot to roll past the ring of muscle and right over that _one sweet spot_ and Yondu was gasping “Gonna, gonna, gonna,” into Kraglin’s mouth before he plastered both their stomachs with, albeit less than before, stickiness. He was a shuddering, overstimulated mess, and all he could do was press his forehead to Kraglin’s shoulder and sigh, “Flark it all, Krags, I didn’t even know I could _do_ this.”

 

Kraglin’s heart stuttered at the admission. “I’mma take it as a compliment.”

 

When Yondu’s head fell back, understandably exhausted, Kraglin’s eyes glittered at the expanse of delicate jugular it exposed. His jaw and tongue were absolutely aching after all that, but his teeth were aching for a whole different reason. They wanted to clamp down on that display of trust, wanted to draw blood.

 

Before he could think better of it, that was exactly what he did, jaw locking onto the tender spot. Yondu gave an all-out wail that the neighboring hotel guests definitely heard, balls drawing up in a valiant effort at another load. He was shivering as he came down from his high, pawing at Kraglin’s sides feebly. “Fuck, enough. I… I give. _I give, damn it._ ”

 

Krags gave an uncharacteristic chuckle, thrusting just enough to get himself off. Seeing stars and happier than he can remember ever being, he settled down into the clinging blue arms that had scratched him bloody down his back. They were covered in each other’s messes, bloody and spunky, and it was absolutely nasty. Neither of them cared. They had plenty of problems awaiting them come dawn, but for that moment, what they had was absolutely enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wedged some plot into like, the last sentence there? lol


	6. Remedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have some serious talks, and we have some funnies, because I think we all deserve it.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is the reason for the drug use tag, for those who are iffy about it.

Kraglin woke to an itchy nose and something sweet on his tongue. It was the kind of rich, lulling sweetness that was in the air when baked goods were in the oven. He sat up and immediately identified the source: Yondu was sitting on the table, nose in the open window and blowing smoke out of it to avoid stifling the room. He had a rolled “Mama’s Sweet” in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other. The drug was known for being intoxicating two-fold—the sugary sweetness could be mistaken by many for simple snacks. But too much of the tranquilizing stuff could make you feel absolutely dead inside. “Yondu?”

 

Yondu didn’t look at him. He just said, in a surprisingly small voice, “I ain’t gonna stop.”

 

That certainly wasn’t what Kraglin wanted to hear, but it was all he expected. “I know.”

 

Yondu sighed, the exhale billowing more smoke out the window and into the cold night air. “So what are we gonna do, here?”

 

Kraglin gave a sigh of his own, dragging the blanket to stand beside Yondu’s perch. “I know I can’t stop you. But you gotta let me… ref. You don’t have a way to mitigate when you’re like this. I just don’t want you to do something you might regret later. Just let me… try to make it okay.”

 

Yondu curled his lip. “I ain’t _gotta_ let you do nuthin’ brat. I—”

 

Kraglin cut him off with a kiss, tasting the overly sweet taste on blue lips. “I love you, you big blue idiot, and you’re gonna let me help you. Because it hurts me when you hurt you.”

 

Yondu glared at Kraglin for a long time, eyes suspicious and wanting to fight. But be it the drugs and alcohol running through his veins, or god forbid an actual emotion deep in his heart, he only huffed and grumbled something about “kids these days.”

 

Kraglin took that as an acceptance of his terms and crawled up onto the table, too. It was tight, but being pressed into blue flesh was hardly problematic. He draped the blanket around to share, and rested his head on a tense shoulder. “I know you ain’t never gonna. But if you ever want to talk it out, I’ll always listen. Yeah?”

 

Yondu snuffed out his roll into the glass ashtray in the windowsill before leaning back into his Hraxlian Heated Blanket. “What’s there to talk about?”

 

***

 

Watching the sunrise was nice. Peaceful, some might say. Everything was fine until Yondu had to dash off to ralph all over the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, leaving Kraglin to fret from the other side. “Sir? Do you seriously do this every time we have shore leave?”

 

“Flark it all, Krags, if you really love me, you’ll let me toss in peace.”

 

Kraglin sat down with his back to the door, unwilling to go anywhere. Too quietly for anyone else to hear, he only murmured, “You know I can’t do that.”

 

Louder, he said, “I’m just… I’m just trying to understand the appeal here. You spent all those years fighting for your life as a battle slave… why would you _want_ to relive that? It just seems….”

 

“Gross?” Yondu snapped, voice echoing off tile. “You, the asshole who has a sentient sock in his damned hamper, is lecturing _me_ on gross habits? Fuck off.”

 

“Fine. Then what _do_ you want to talk about? Because you gotta keep going on about something. I need to know you ain’t passed out and knockin’ yerself dead on the porcelain throne.”

 

Yondu’s snarl was cut off by an unattractive choking noise. “I don’t care what you blather on about, but it _can’t be me._ ”

 

Kraglin grinned to himself, knowing the only thing more annoying to Yondu than talking about himself. “Quill’s probably gonna be dead when we get back to the ship.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

Kraglin chuckled. “Yeah, twerp is pissed that I locked him in. God knows what he’s been up to for two whole days without either of us on board. He probably put engine lube in Tassie’s socks and tried burning Tullk’s hair off, _again_. Hell, Half-nut had to stay on board to monitor the bridge systems, he’s probably strangling the squishy kid as we speak.”

 

“You are so—hurg.”

 

“Hurg?” Kraglin teased. It was hard to have sympathy when Yondu’s binge caught up with him, and if he couldn’t even snap at him, he sure couldn’t whistle. “Merf? I’m learning all kinds of fun things about you this weekend, Captain.”

 

“I’mma kill you, brat.”

 

“Stop callin’ me a brat. ‘Sweird. I’mma start calling you Old Man and you can choke on that instead. Quill probably will, too.”

 

“YOU ARE SO GROSS—” was all Yondu got out before he had another coughing fit.

 

“I know you’re a lot older’n me an’ all, but jeez, boss, you gotta stop calling attention to it.” Kraglin was mostly teasing, but apparently Yondu took this subject very personally.

 

“Couple years—hic—ain’t a _lot_ older.”

 

Kraglin actually had to stifle laughter at that. “A couple? Yeah, okay sir.”

 

Yondu went quiet for a while, and Kraglin let him get it out of his system. The stuff he had been sucking down for the whole morning was gnarly junk, and it was surprising Yondu had lasted as long as he did without coughing it up. Normally a little at a time would be good enough to prevent a high-low crash, but Yondu had to purge his weekend so that he could come back relatively well to his ship.

 

When Yondu’s coughs and gags finally subsided, he threw the bathroom door open, almost landing Kraglin a crack to the head via the tile floor. He caught himself just in time and watched his captain—ever confident, even after that—stride over to the bed where he took a regal seat amongst the blankets. His face blank, he cut off Kraglin’s attempts at questions. “Wait, Krags. Krags.”

 

Kraglin stood up, looking as puzzled as he felt. What?”

 

Yondu, looking like he was on the verge of exploding, stared at the floor with one hand up. “Seriously, how old are you?”

 

Were they still on that? “Sir?”

 

“Kraglin, how old are you?”

 

“I don’t see what that has to do with—”

 

“Krags.”

 

“Why do you—”

 

“Kraglin.”

 

“I don’t—”

 

“ _Kraglin Obfonteri.”_

“Nineteen.”

 

Yondu’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t say anything, just rolled forward in his ball-formation and face planted into the blankets. After a minute, Kraglin could hear muffled screaming. “What the hell? Captain?”

 

The muffled screaming continued, joined by a broken, “I FEEL SO OLD.”

 

Kraglin tried valiantly not to laugh at Yondu’s antics, but it was hard. It was also a fight he eventually lost. “Aw, sir. I had no idea this was a midlife crisis.”

 

There was more screaming. “I’mma kill you and steal your youth.”

 

Kraglin snorted. “C’mon sir, it ain’t like I’m a kid or nothin’.”

 

“You’re a _baby._ You’re young enough to be Quill’s brother!”

 

Kraglin gasped and clasped this hands over his chest. “Sir, that is the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

“I’m bein’ serious!”

 

Kraglin chuckled some more before stepping toward the bed. He shuffled some of the blankets out of the way so he could fish Yondu’s face out of the nest. He tilted red eyes up to meet his own. “Sir? C’mon, it ain’t that bad.”

 

Yondu gave him a very pinched glower. “Yes, it is. All that teasin’ about age, from _both_ of us; it ain’t just a tease no more! Flark you’re a _zygote_.”

 

Kraglin snorted. “It ain’t that big a deal. Our species age different. Flark knows you age slower than every damned body on the ship. And Hrax are considered adults at fifteen. Besides, we didn’t start getting nasty until last year.”

 

Yondu buried his head in his hands again. “To Kree _and_ Centurian you’re still a flarkin’ minor! I’mma perv! You’re jailbait!”

 

Kraglin snorted and rubbed his rough stubble across the top of Yondu’s head, just shy of his implant. “Do I _feel_ like a minor, sir? Cuz I don’t think I do.”

 

Yondu glared at him through parted fingers. “Fifteen?”

 

“Fifteen,” Kraglin agreed. “Hell, did you see me when I signed on? I was taller than you then, too. Ain’t grown much since. We age faster, boss. Honest.”

 

Yondu growled into his hands. “I still don’t believe this shit.”

 

Kraglin laughed at him, scooping up his captain for a cuddle in a more dignified position. “Don’t seem to matter the age difference, boss. Seems to me, I’m always the one babysitting _you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Shout out to Write_like_an_American, who was the first (to my knowledge) writer of Yondu and Kraglin's pet sentient sock, Junior!
> 
> 2)Yondu is having an age crisis, it seems! Let's all laugh at him for it, shall we?
> 
> 3) Kraglin is jailbait, pass it on


End file.
